War Stories(re-writen)
by Breakaway25
Summary: Sarge never told the residents of Radiator Springs about his Army service., but when an old Army buddy comes into town with troubling news, he finds himself reliving the past. From the attack on Pearl Harbor to the Battle of the Bulge, this is the story of our greatest triumph and the cars who made it possible, this is the story of WWII. Pleas read and review
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This story is about Sarge's military career, and WWII in the Car's world. I'm having to fill in a lot of gaps so don't jump on me if I get something wrong.

Disclaimer: Cars and Sarge are owned by Disney. Killer McCoy and Pick Pickering are owned by W.E.B. Griffin. All other characters are of my own creation.

It was a normal day in Radiator Springs. The sun was at it peak, and the temperature in the small town was approaching sweltering levels. The town's residents were lazing around in Flo's cafe mostly trying to beat the heat. They were alone that day, few tourists wanted to make the trip out to the high Arizonian desert during the summer. But, occasionally a car would make its way through town. The townsfolk even had a little game going. Because of the layer of fine dust spread over the road into town, any car approaching would kick up a fairly large cloud of dust. When a dust cloud was spotted,

they would try to guess what type of car was making its way over the hill.

As a new cloud of dust appeared on the horizon the townsfolk made new guesses. "Chevy Cavalier," Lightning McQueen guessed.

"Buick Enclave," guessed Sally.

"Uh, a tow truck," Mater guessed

"Aw, Mater you guess that every time," McQueen replied chuckling. As the townsfolk waited the noise from the car's engine could now be made out. It was clearly a diesel from the low growl that came over the hill, but the noise of the engine was accompanied by a rapid _click-click-clicking_ noise that none of the cars could place.

"What is that?" asked Flo.

"I ain't never heard nu-thin like that before," remarked Mater.

"No, it can't be," muttered Sarge.

"What," asked McQueen. But before Sarge could reply the mystery car made its way over the small hill outside of town.

"It is," Sarge muttered. The car was like nothing the townspeople had ever seen before. It was painted in a flat army olive green, and had a sharply angled grill with a large white star painted in the center. It was a truck of some kind and as it came closer the source of the clicking noise could be determined. Instead of having a set of rear wheels the car had a pair of caterpillar tracks, like a bulldozer.

"What is that," asked Sheriff.

"That," replied Sarge, "Is a M3 Half track."

The approaching half-track pulled into the cafe next to Sarge and said, "Well sargeant Major its been a while."

"Johnny, is that you," Sarge exclaimed.

"Aw, come on we jumped into Normandy together, we went into Eindhoven together, and who gave you fire support when you dragged Robbie back to Bastogne."

Seeing the unasked question in the eyes of the other cars Sarge explained, "Sergeant-"

"Captain," the M3 interupted

"Captain Johnson Cannty and me served together in war two and then again in Korea. So Johnny, as much as I would like to reminisce, what brings you here." Sarge asked.

Cannty hesitated for a moment before replying,"Actually a rather somber subject. General Crawling died last Thursday. He wanted guys from the old unit to serve in his honor guard."

After a moment Sarge asked somberly, "Arlington?"

"Where else. Let me know if you want to come back with me, I've got a flight booked for tomorrow. In the mean time, is there a place around here where I can spend the night."

"I think that I might be able to help with that," said Sally, "Follow me." As Johnson turned around to follow her out of the cafe the townsfolk noticed a small light blue rectangle dotted with white stars painted on his tailgate.

"Well son I think you have some explaining to do," remarked Sheriff.

Sarge sighed then explained, "General, then Captain, Crawling was my company commander during WWII. He was a very good car and a close friend of mine; I served as his sergeant major during the early months of the Korean war. He requested me to serve on his honor guard for his burial at Arlington National Cemetery."

"What about Johnson, and what was that on his tailgate," asked McQueen.

"That, was a symbol denoting the fact that he was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor," Sarge replied curtly.

"So wha'cha gonna do now," asked Mater.

"Why, I'm going with Cannty to Arlington in the mourning," Sarge replied, without thought.

* * *

Sarge left Flo's and returned to his store. The rest of the townsfolk discussed what to do. After a few minutes the reached a decision, and McQueen left Flo's and headed towards Sarge's surplus store. McQueen pushed his way into the store and called, "Sarge?"

"I'm back here," He called from the back room. McQueen had been in the store several times, but he had never been into the back room that served as Sarge's office and sleeping quarters. When McQueen entered the room the first thing that he noticed was that a parachute canopy had been tacked to the roof. As he looked around the room he saw that a large black shield with an eagle's head in its center had been painted on the back wall. Above the shield was a curved black strip with the word "Airborne" painted in white block letters.

Sarge was behind a small desk near the back wall. There were pieces of military memorabilia spread thought the room. A glass case on a wall held a rifle and a pistol, and there was a rifle leaning against Sarge's desk. One of the walls had been covered with black and white pictures of various Army vehicles. When McQueen looked closer at the photos, he noticed that each of the vehicles in the photos had the black shield and eagle painted on its side. McQueen was so busy studying the pictures that he didn't hear Sarge come up behind him. "That was the old unit. Good bunch of guys," Sarge announced.

"Who are they?" McQueen asked pointing to a group of photos tacked to a bulletin board in the center of the wall.

Sarge looked where McQueen was pointing, sighed, and then said, "Some other time." Sarge turned and went back to his desk and began to pull sheets of paper out of a cardboard file folder. He stacked the paper on his desk and then went over to the front wall. On that wall was a glass display case holding two medals and a cluster of service ribbons. Sarge opened the case and took out the service ribbons and took them over to the desk. McQueen looked at the two medals for a moment. One was a gold cross suspended from a blue ribbon flanked with red bands. The second was a silver star suspended from a ribbon of alternating blue, red, and white stripes.

McQueen turned from the case and said, "Sarge I came in to ask if it wold be alright if Sally and me went with you to Arlington."

"Sarge looked up from his papers and said, "That would be fine. I'll let you know what time the plane leaves in the morning. Right now I need to go see if Ramone can do a special order." Sarge gathered up his papers and rolled out of the room. McQueen threw one last glance around the room and followed Sarge out of the room.

* * *

"Well, what did he say?" Sally asked as McQueen rolled back into Flo's

"He said it would be fine with him if we went with him to Arlington," McQueen replied. Sarge drove back into Flo's and up to Ramone.

"I need a paint job, a special paint job." Sarge said, bluntly.

"Well, let me see what I can do," Ramone replied. Sarge and Ramone left Flo's and went to Ramone's store.

"What was that about," asked Sally.

"I don't know. I guess we'll have to wait and find out," McQueen answered. Thirty minutes later Sarge drove out of Ramone's shop. It took a minute for the townsfolk to realize what he had had done. He was now wearing the paint scheme of a full Army dress uniform. His sergeant's stripes had been touched up and now looked brand new, and he had been given a new coating of Army olive drab. He was wearing four gold stripes on the edge of his hood where his number had been, and there was a collection of ribbons painted onto his front bumper. The black shield and eagle insignia had been painted on his back left corner.

Flo was the first of the townsfolk to speak, "Looking good honey."

Cannty, who had come into the cafe unnoticed, said, "Do you think I can get one of those."

"I don't see why not, " Ramone replied as he left his store.

"Oh, and before I forget, Sarge my flight leaves from Phoenix tomorrow at ten," Cannty announced.

"That's fine, I told Sally and McQueen that the could accompany us. I hope that's alright with you," Sarge asked Cannty.

"Its fine with me," Cannty replied, "I could use the company.

* * *

The flight from Phoenix took longer that anyone thought it would. After a spirited debate in Phoenix about whether or not Cannty was too heavy to board the plane, they all boarded on schedule. And after eight hours on a five hour flight they arrived at Dulles international airport. They found suitable hotel accommodations in a hotel that several other veterans were staying in. They were returning to their rooms after dinner when they were approached by a Dodge 3/4 ton weapons carrier. "Well, if it isn't Sargeant Major Kennesy. How've you been Sarge," The truck announced. Sarge looked at the truck for several minutes trying to place his face.

Then he remembered, "Major McCoy, what are you doing here?"

"I heard about Crawling's death. I came to pay my respects," McCoy replied. Before Sarge could say anything else, and F4U Corsair pushed his way into the hotel's lobby.

"Hey, Killer, sorry I couldn't scrape together better accommodations, but we came on rather short notice," the fighter said. Then he saw Sarge and said, "Hey, Sargeant Kennesy its been ages. How've you been?"

Before Sarge could answer McCoy said, "Major Pickering, you know I don't mind you calling me that, but please don't do it when my wife is in the same building."

Sally came up and asked McCoy, "Did you serve with Sarge in the Army?" Sarge had completely forgotten that Sally and McQueen were behind him in the lobby.

"No, ma'am," McCoy replied, "Me and the Pick were in the Marines. Sargeant Kennesy served under me for a couple of months in Korea."

Before Sally could ask any more questions Sarge said, "Well its been good seeing you Major, but we've gotta run."

"Nice seeing you to Sargeant. Why don't you come over to my room for breakfast. The misses will love the company," McCoy replied.

"I might take you up on that. Goodnight," said Sarge.

"Goodnight Sargeant," McCoy said. As Sarge turned to leave he heard McCoy say to Pickering, "Look how many times do I have to tell you not to call me Killer. Do not make me regret pulling you out of that rice patty in Wonson." Sarge was unable to hear the rest of the conversation as he, McQueen, and Sally left the lobby.

When Sarge got to his room Sally and McQueen rolled in after him. "Sarge we need to talk," announced Sally. "We know next to nothing about what happened to you during the war. I think it's time we discussed it." Sarge stared off into the distance for a few moments. He had feared that this day would come. He had spent so long keeping his history bottled up inside of him that he thought he would take his story to the grave. He came to the conclusion that it was time. Time to release the burden of sixty years and two wars off of his hood.

He cleared his throat and began, "It all started in January of '41. I was a lowly corporal with two years of Army service, running supply convoys in the Philippines."


	2. Chapter 2

**NCO Barracks C, Luzon Force, Manila, Philippines, 0750, 12, April, 1941**

Corporal William Kennesy was awoken by the rapping of a tire against his hood. "The G-4 wants you down at HQ, Willy," announced Corporal Rod Hammerstein, the one responsible for the tire.

"Alright, give me a minute," Kennesy growled as he lifted himself out of his rack. Hammerstein shrugged and drove away. Kennesy rose to his wheels and shook the sleep out of his eyes. He then left the barracks and headed to the chow hall. Upon receiving his breakfast he went to find a secluded spot in the shade of a palm tree.

Kennesy knew that the most likely reason that he had been called to the Luzon force HQ, was that he had been chosen to run a convoy to one of the other US military bases on Luzon. The G-4 was the officer in charge of unit logistics, in essence transporting goods and personnel where they needed to go. The Luzon force G-4 was a surly captain two years out of the Point, and just loved to spring random convoy duties on the junior noncoms.

He finished his meal and went towards the HQ building. "Corporal Kennesy to see the G-4," Kennesy told the Sargent behind the desk, just inside the HQ building's door.

"Wait here a moment, corporal," the Sargeant said, then went into the adjoining room. He came back out a minute later and said, "Captain McNamara will see you now corporal." Kennesy nodded his thanks and went into the adjoining room. He came to a stop at rigid attention, and stared at a point six inches above Captain McNamara's head.

"Corporal William Kennesy reporting to the captain as ordered, sir," Kennesy barked.

"At ease, corporal," McNamara responded. Kennesy dropped his rigidity and looked down at the colonel. He was an older model sedan who looked like he had seen his fair share of military service. "Corporal, we're sending a convoy around to all of the bases in the area. I need you to lead it." It was exactly as Kennesy had guessed.

"Yes, sir."

"Go out and see the sargeant for details, dismissed," McNamara said. Kennesy gave a salute and McNamara returned it. He then left the office to talk to the sargeant for details. Kennesy didn't hate convoy duty, it was just that there was nothing to do; except maybe targets while the trucks were resting. He left the HQ building and went down to the armory. He checked out his rifle, a brand new M1 Garand.

The garand was a fairly new weapon. Invented in 1936 by John C. Garand, a civilian working for the Springfield armory, the rifle was an improvement over the old 1903 Springfield. The garand could hold eight rounds of .30-06 ammunition in a en-bloc clip, while the Springfield could only hold five. However, the best improvement was the fact that the garand was semi-automatic. That meant that each time the trigger was pulled the rifle would automatically load the next round. A trained sharpshooter could put all eight of the garand's rounds on target without breaking his line of sight.

Even though the weapon had been in the military's arsenal for two years, it was still not fully adopted. Old soldiers and marines considered the weapon to be a piece of junk that would never be better than the Springfield. Kennesy knew better. He had been chosen to attend the field tests for the weapon and had become a quick convert to the garand's effectiveness. He had won several hundred dollars by betting against old soldiers and marines who still claimed that the 1903 Springfield was the better weapon.

Now he checked the weapon out for more show than anything else. As convoy leader he served as not only navigator but as chief guard. The weapons were only carried in the US occupied Philippines to scare away local bandits.

After checking out his small arms, he went over to the supply dump. There he found five GMC 2 and 1/2 ton trucks being loaded down with supplies. "Hey Willy, they stuck you with babysitting again," one of the trucks called. Kennesy only nodded his hood. The trucks went back to the conversation they had been having before Kennesy drove up.

"Did you see that poster over by the chow tent."

"What the one asking for volunteers for parachute training? No thanks, no way I'll jump out of a perfectly good airplane."

"You wouldn't even fit in an airplane."

"What was that," Kennesy interrupted.

"Somebody from G-1 put up a sign over by the chow hall asking for volunteers for parachute training. I would sign up myself just to get out of this monotony, but they only want Jeeps right now," one of the truck explained.

"Parachute training," Kennesy muttered, thinking about possibilities.

"Hey Corporal," one of the forklifts loading the trucks called, "We're just about done here. If you're ready to go then I'll bring some gas to top everyone off."

"I'm ready to go, so let's tank everyone up and we'll hit the road," Kennesy replied. The lift nodded and left the supply dump. He came back a minute later with a gas truck. The trucks filled their tanks and Kennesy herded them into convoy order. Then the whole ensemble started off down the road.

* * *

**Headquarters, Luzon Force, Manila, Philippines, 1230, 2, June, 1941**

The convoy had taken two weeks of driving over very old roads. Kennesy knew that it would be weeks before his suspension was back to rights. He had done little over the time except disintegrate a few coconuts with his garand. He towards the HQ building to report the successful completion of the convoy. As he rolled into the building the first sargeant intercepted him, "Hey corporal the G-1 want to see you."

"What does G-1 want with me," Kennesy asked.

"How the hell do I know, just get your aft end over there." The G-1 was the officer in charge of personnel and manpower, Kennesy had no idea what he wanted with him. Kennesy shrugged and made his way down to the G-1's office.

He rolled into the office, popped to attention, and called, "Corporal Kennesy reporting as ordered sir"

"At ease corporal. Are you on someones grease list?" Kennesy was stunned by the accusation.

"Sir, not that I know of," he stammered, "Why sir?"

"I just got a set of orders, detaching you from Luzon force and reattaching you to the 15th special combat team at Fort Benning for 'Additional Training'. The only reason that I can think off that you would get kicked out of the Philippines is that you ticked off some really high ups."

"Sir, I can't think off anyone that I ticked off," Kennesy replied, dumbfounded.

"Well I tried to get you you of this, you're a good soldier and don't deserve this kind of crap, but someone in Washington pushed it through, there's nothing else I can do. Good luck at Benning corporal."

Kennesy sat speechless for a moment before remembering to ask, "By your leave sir?"

"Dismissed." Kennesy turned, drove out the door, and headed towards his bunk to begin packing.

* * *

**Army Infantry Center, Fort Benning, GA, 21, June, 1941**

Kennesy was in trouble. His orders specifically stated that he was to report to the Fort Benning G-1's office no later than 19, June. He had been picked up in Manila by the _USS Chaumont_, a transport ship that continuously circled the globe transporting soldiers, sailors, and marines to and from various US military bases in the far east. Kennesy had been lucky enough to catch the ship right as it was making its return trip to the US, through the Atlantic. He had to ride all the way to the Suez canal and through the Mediterranean, ultimately ending in Norfolk on the 20th. As soon as his tires hit the ground Kennesy found a diner, gassed up, and headed down the highway towards Fort Benning.

It was five o'clock the next day when he rolled onto the base. He was two days late and in the eyes of the Army that was a sin of the greatest magnitude. It was defined as being absent without leave or AWOL, a court-martialable offense. As soon as he rolled past the gate he headed towards the G-1's office. He entered the small brick building five minutes later, wheezing from all of the strain he had put on his engine. He had been driving for sixteen hours strait and was feeling like he would overheat soon if he didn't change coolant fast.

"May I help you corporal?" asked a large GMC truck the wore the stripes of a master sargeant.

"Corporal Kennesy to see the G-1," Kennesy replied.

"Ah, Kennesy, the colonel told me to send you immediately to him when you showed up. Just out of curiosity, what took you so long?" the sargeant asked.

"I had to hitch a ride on the _Chaumont_," Kennesy replied, "The long way around."

"Ah, you're lucky it wasn't two week instead of two days," the sargeant said chuckling, "I'll tell the colonel you're here." The truck rolled out of the room and down an adjoining hall. He came back a moment later and gestured for Kennesy to follow him. Kennesy followed him down the hall to a door that had a brass nameplate reading Lt. Col. Jack Right G-1.

Kennesy entered the room, came to attention, and called, "Corporal William Kennesy reporting to the colonel as ordered sir."

Colonel Right looked up from his desk at the young Jeep corporal in front of him and asked, "Well, corporal, why are you two days late?"

"Sir, I had to ride the _Chaumont_ up the Suez and through the Med," Kennesy replied.

The colonel paused then said, "I see. Well I don't see any reason to charge you with AWOL just because the _Chaumont_ was late, again. Ask my sargeant for directions to building 302. That's where your new CO is located."

"Sir, I don't know who that is," Kennesy stated.

"Well then I guess you're not one of his volunteers. His name is Crawling, and he's a good car," Colonel Right said, "that will be all corporal, dismissed." Kennesy saluted, turned, and left the room. He asked the sargeant at the desk for directions and went to find a medic to get a coolant change.

Kennesy had no real trouble finding building 302, all of the buildings on base had been clearly marked and 302 was right between 301 and 303. When he rolled into the building what he saw was rather unusual. Behind the desk that the company clerk would usually sit at was a large Jeep wearing captains bars. Kennesy immediately came to attention and saluted the officer. "Corporal Kennesy reporting for duty as ordered sir."

The Jeep looked up from the stack of paper in the desk and said, "Normally I would say our company clerk was out, but seeing as we don't have one that would be lying."

"Sir you are," Kennesy asked.

* * *

Sarge was broken off mid-sentence by a knocking on the door. Sally got up to answer it, and when she opened the door, Cannty rolled in. Cannty looked around the room and said, "Is he telling you war stories?"

"Yes," McQueen replied.

"When is he up to?"

"I had just rolled into Crawling's building 302," Sarge replied.

"Oh, good, that means I am about to com into the picture," Cannty said. Sarge gave him a funny look and continued with his sentence.

* * *

"Captain James Crawling, and if you're who I think you are then you are a welcome sight corporal," the Jeep said.

"Sir, why am I here?" Kennesy asked.

Crawling chuckled then said, "You get right to the point, don't you corporal. Well to cut the grease you're here because I asked for you."

"Sir?"

"Kennesy have you heard about the theory of vertical envelopment?" Crawling asked.

"Sir, no sir."

"Airborne Infantry?"

"Sir, no sir."

"How about paratroopers?"

"Yes sir."

"Well then can you tell me about paratroops," Crawling asked.

"Sir, they are regular infantry who volunteered to drive out of airplanes while wearing parachutes," Kennesy explained.

"Well you're not wrong. First off their not regular infantry, after the training they get, the paratroopers will be the best of the best. Secondly the idea is to rapidly move entire divisions of cars behind enemy lines," Crawling explained.

"Sir, where do I fit into this," Kennesy interrupted.

"You are going to join a brand new unit that I am leading. Our mission is to fully develop the practices of airborne warfare. In short, we're gonna find out how much crap we can shove into and then drop out of an airplane."

"Sir, with respect, what do you want with me, I'm only a young corporal who's been running supply convoys in the Philippines for three years," said Kennesy.

"You're a corporal who is not only fluent in German, French, and a list of others, but who can put eight shots from a garand into a quarter inch hole. I'm surprised you weren't pulled for G-2 duty a long time ago," Crawling announced.

"Sir, what do you want me to do," Kennesy asked.

"Well seeing as the entire unit right now is you, me, and another late corporal I recommend that you go check into the NCO barracks, and then come back so that you can give me you're ideas on weapons we might requisition." Crawling ordered. "So if there are no further questions corporal, dismissed." Kennesy saluted, spun around, and left the building. He went to go find his way towards the NCO quarters.

* * *

"So you were a paratrooper?" McQueen asked with awe in his voice, "Is that why there is a parachute in your store?"

"Well he wasn't a 'trooper yet. Still had to earn his wings," Cannty said with a chuckle.

Sarge glared at Crawling, then said, "I couldn't be called a paratrooper until I complete six parachute jumps and went through the training course. Right then I was just a fresh off the boat corporal charged with weapons requisitions."

"Can you really speak German," Sally asked.

"My mother immigrated from Heidelberg right after the great war. I grew up speaking German and English. I picked up French and Italian in high school. And looking back I am amazed I wasn't pulled for G-2 work," Sarge said.

"G-2?" McQueen asked.

"Military intelligence – a contradiction in terms if I ever heard one –, figuring out what the enemy is doing so that you may more effectively kill them," Crawling explained.

"So what happened next," asked Sally.

"Next he met this handsome devil," Crawling said, grinning.

"Next I made my way towards the NCO quarters," Sarge continued.


	3. Chapter 3

**Fort Benning Army Infantry Center, Fort Benning GA, 15 October, 1941**

Corporal William Kennesy was feeling rather good for himself. Captain Crawling had informed him that to become a part of his unit Kennesy would be required to go through the parachute infantry course. He had gone through the course and was now in the process of completing his third jump. He was sitting against the wall of a C-47 transport plane waiting for the jumpmaster to relay his instructions. The training was not only learning how to jump out of airplanes it included quite a bit of classroom work as well.

Kennesy had been taught many minute details about parachutes and para-troops. Such as, that his main chute was made of 24 silk panels, and that it was designed so that if a tear formed it would spread no further than the panel where it started. It was normally strapped to his roof, and would be deployed by a static line when he exited the aircraft. If that chute failed he had a reserve chute attached to his grill that could be deployed by pulling a D-ring. He learned that the chute would slow his descent to about 17 miles per hour, 24 in the case of the reserve chute, and that at that speed it was required to do a special landing maneuver upon striking the ground lest he damage his undercarriage.

He also learned that when a paratrooper landed his troubles weren't over. A paratrooper had to make sure to dump the air out of his partial inflated parachute or it might drag him along the ground for several feet. The trainees practiced a technique of yanking on the riser tabs to spill the excess air. They did this by lying on the ground and spreading the chute out behind them. Then a C-47 volunteer would turn its engine on and direct its prop-blast at the chute. A sergeant would lift the lip of the chute up to facilitate inflation. The trainee would have to quickly spill the air from his chute or he would be dragged along the runway.

If a trainee was able to get through the classroom work, physical exercise, ground training, and equipment training he would be allowed to participate in his first parachute jump. The trainees were woken up, led to the quartermasters where they checked out chutes that they had packed the night before, and led to the airstrip. They then boarded a C-47 and, after a ten minute flight, were to hook up and prepare to jump. The feeling that Kennesy felt as he drove straight out of the open door and into the open sky was unlike anything he had ever felt before. The shock of the main chute's canopy opening followed by the slow descent to the Earth below.

Kennesy had successfully completed two such jumps, and was now beginning his third. He waited for the green light above the plane's door to light, signifying that it was time to jump. His third jump went very much like his first two. When he touched down he gunned his engine and quickly rolled forward to dampen the shock of landing. He then rolled behind him to collect up the silk mass of the chute.

* * *

"Sarge, if I'm not mistaken the war didn't start until 1942. What were you doing in the Army in 1941?" Sally asked, interrupting Sarge.

"You're right it didn't, but he was in the Army for the same reason I was, three meals a day and a solid roof. Times were hard back then, the nation was in the midst of a depression, and jobs were few and far between. The Army offered a steady paycheck and a place to live," Cannty explained.

"Times were different back then," Sarge explained, "Cars wouldn't just take money from the government. We worked hard for everything we got, and only took handouts when it was absolutely necessary. I needed money to survive, and the Army offered a steady source of it."

"Well, what happened next?" McQueen inquired.

"He met me, that's what happened," Cannty interrupted.

"After if landed I went back to building 302 and Captain Crawling," Sarge continued.

* * *

"Corporal Kennesy," Captain Crawling announced as Kennesy rolled into the building. "I've good news for you. Here read this," Crawling slid a piece of paper across his desk towards Kennesy. Kennesy looked down at the paper. It said, "To: Captain James W. Crawling Commander Special Detachment 15. From: Lt. Col Jack Wright, Fort Benning G-1. Routine. Unclassified. Message: Corporal William A. Kennesy of your command, is hereby promoted to Staff Sergeant with all of the duties and responsibilities concurrent with this rank. Signed: Lt. Col Jack Wright G-1."

Kennesy was stunned, staff sergeant was two pay grades above corporal. It was uncommon, but not unheard of, for cars to skip ranks in the military hierarchy. "Well, staff sergeant, what do you have to say about that?" Crawling asked.

"Sir, I don't deserve this," Kennesy replied.

"I beg to differ, sergeant, you've have been filling in as my company clerk ever since you got here. For a unit of this size that billet is supposed to be filled by a staff sergeant. I talked it out with Colonel Wright and he agreed with me," Crawling replied.

"Sir, what am I supposed to do?" Kennesy asked.

"Well for now, the same thing that you've been doing for me Right now I need you to head down to base ops, there are three new members of this unit, and I need you to go get their service jackets. Then go get yourself painted sergeant, you're out of uniform. I don't want to see you back here unless you are wearing the stripes of your rank, dismissed." Kennesy saluted, and spun around to leave the room.

He made his way down to the base operations building, and then proceeded to argue with the sergeant on duty there for ten minutes about his authority to check out the records material. When he finally received the records he checked them against the information Crawling had given him. There were two Jeeps who wore the insignia of privates, and one M3 half-track who was a corporal. That last one surprised Kennesy, he thought that half-tracks were ineligible for parachute duty. He would have to talk to Crawling about that point later. After he had retrieved the records he headed down to one of the base's paint shops, and, after proving his story with a set of written order, had the three chevrons and single rocker stripe of a staff sergeant painted onto his doors.

He considered today to be of noteworthy importance and broke one of his rules. He went down to the NCO club and ordered a drink. When he entered the club he came hood to hood with a large M3 half-track that wore the twin stripes of a corporal. He went up to the bar and ordered a drink. His curiosity got the better of him and he drove over to the big truck. "So what brings an M3 out to this neck of the woods," Kennesy asked.

The M3 turned to see who had spoken to him, saw Kennesy's stripes, and replied, "I just volunteered for parachute duty."

"I thought M3's weren't allowed to volunteer?"

"They asked for a few volunteers for a new unit that was forming. I signed up as soon as I could," the M3 explained.

"Well corporal, good luck to you. I think I'll be seeing more of you in the future," Kennesy stated, cryptically. He then downed his drink, and left the building.

* * *

"And that was when we met," Cannty interrupted.

"How did you get to know each other," McQueen asked.

"Well I was the company clerk for the unit that he had just joined. We had to work together very closely on a rather large problem," Sarge explained.

"What was that," Sally asked.

"The fact that I was to heavy to be hauled up in a transport plane," Cannty stated.

And now for a feature which I debuted on my other story on this site, Army-English dictionary!

* * *

C-47: A twin engine transport known as the Dakota in Army service and DC-3 in civilian airlines

Routine: there were five classifications of message precedence signifying the importance of the message – Routine, Priority, Operational Priority, Urgent, and Operational Immediate.


End file.
